Johnlock Fluff (mostly) Oneshots

Scars And All

Hey guys, I'm currently taking a break from writing for a while but I'm not very good at doing that. Basically, for now, I'm going to write in short bursts kinda. So I got this idea.... idk where tbh. It's kinda influenced by one of the chapters in one of sini333 's books. Check their books out, they're really good. I'm having a panic attack again because yeah happiness and I need to write. Sorry for any typos, I got shaky hands. TW: self harm, not in detail or anything, but mentions it. 

John's POV
I was getting out of the shower when I heard Sherlock's frantic cries from the living room. Hurriedly, I wrapped a towel around my waist and ran out to them. 

"What's wrong, Sherlock?" 

"Rosie" Was all he said, while frowning down at the small child in front of him. "She won't take her food even though she's hungry. I've tried to logic with her but-" He cut himself off when he looked at me. A look of concern replaced the look of frustration on his face. this confused me slightly but I shook it off. 

"Give me her food" I said, holding my hand out and he passed it over to me, staring at my chest. I did my best to ignore it as I tried to feed our daughter. 

Thankfully, she took the food from me and began to eat it happily. 

"There we go" I said, placing the spoon and empty jar of baby food on the table. 

"Mhm" Was the only reply I got from my boyfriend. 

"What's up, love?" 

His head snapped up to look at me and he opened his mouth to say something but nothing came out. Instead, he just shook his head to imply that it was nothing. 

I decided that it was nothing and I went to go get changed. When I got to the bathroom, I realised what Sherlock had been staring at. My scars. The ones that littered my ribs and forearms. Fuck. How did I forget something like that? 

I got changed into my clothes and wondered what to do next. Either I could go out into the living room and face Sherlock, or I could just hide. Deep down, I knew what I had to do. I had to face Sherlock. Taking a deep breath, I turned and walked out of the bathroom, towards the room Sherlock was in. 

When I entered, Sherlock wasn't there. If I were to guess, I would say that he had just put Rosie to bed. I collapsed on to the sofa and curled up, trying to avoid blinking so that my tears did not fall (people alwyas say "Blink away the tears" but blinking makes me cry when I'm on the verge of crying). A couple of minutes later, Sherlock came down from my old room which was now Rosie's. 

"John" I heard that deep voice that I knew so well say from behind me. 

I twisted round to look at him.

"Yes, Sherlock?" I posed it as a question, though I knew what he was going to say. 

"Why didn't you... tell me?" He posed the question delicately, as if he didn't want to hurt me by talking about it. 

"I'm sorry. I didn't- I couldn't- You- I- You would have- just like them-" Sentences didn't seem to be able to come out properly. Sherlock nodded, seeming to understand what I was trying to say. He came and sat next to me on the sofa and he put his arm around me. 

"When did it start?"

I was silent for a few moments, trying to decide what to say. "First when I was 15, after something with my father, stopped when I left home. Then when I came home from war, stopped not long after I moved in here. Again once you jumped, stopped yet again when you came back. And then for the last time, when Mary died."

He inhaled sharply when he realised how I ended my sentence, or rather what I left out.  

"How long since?"

"I- I don't know. Couple of months. I'm fine now."

"Months. That's fucking all? Months?" (not-very-fun-fact, one of my friends shouted this at me in one of the arguments we had, except he was more descriptive lol.) He ran his hands down his face.

"I'm sorry, Sherlock" I muttered, standing up amd shaking my head. I went to our bedroom. When I went inside, I stood there, shaking slighty, before I collapsed on to the bed, sobbing as quietly as I could, curled up . 

After a while, I heard the door open and Sherlock walked in. I tried my best to stop crying. The bed creaked ever so slightly as he laid down beside me and he wrapped his arms around me.

"I'm sorry Sherlock" I sobbed.  

"No, I am. I didn't mean to yell at you. I-I just hatw that this is my fault and theres nothing you can do about it. I do wish that you told me though, I might have been able to help."

"I couldn't. I didn't want you to leave and act like the other people did."

"I would never leave you, John Watson, because I love you, scars and all." He said this sincerely, while rubbing my hand with his thumb comfortingly. 

"I love you too, Sherlock"

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Hey so this tooke me like 2-3 days to write. I'm doing a bit better but I'm still a bit meh. 31 days until I might be going back to school, but it could be 80 days so there's no way of telling. My friends are still kinda ignoring me, idk what I did wrong for them to all stop tslking to me but yeah. Anyway, see yall in the next chapter, hope you enjoyed it x

Also, thank you guys so much for 2.7k